Infinitely Abundant Chaos
by spottedhorse
Summary: Brass gets a call from L.A.


This is one I stumbled across while cleaning out files. I know I'm suppossed to be typing more for Bulldog, but cleaning this one up was easier and besides it kind fo fit my mood.

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Irony is a clear consciousness of an eternal agility, of the infinitely abundant chaos.  
_Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel_

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The last week had been rough. Not in the multiple homicides, triple shift and officer down sense but more of an internal thing. I couldn't pinpoint it but there was a sense of impending doom that hovered like a dark cloud. It was like I was walking around knowing something bad was about to happen. Back in Jersey we used to get these summer storms…you know the kind, the mornings would be beautiful, full of sunshine and warm. But through the afternoon there would be subtle changes in the air pressure and then boom, a storm would be on top of you in the late evening. For a week, the pressure had been building and I was just waiting for the thunder and a cloud burst.

The phone ringing on my desk wasn't exactly a clap of thunder, but it did startle me as I worked on the seemingly endless stack of reports that go with my job. My mind still on the conclusion and my eyes focused on the paper in front of me, I reached for the handset. "Brass," I said, my annoyance spilling out into the connection.

The person on the other end hesitated. I could hear the intake of breath. Maybe my irritated greeting had been a little too strong, I realized. "Hello," I tried again.

"Jimmy?" a quite voice asked from the other end of the connection. I recognized the Jersey laced feminine voice immediately. "Annie?" I responded, surprised to hear from her since we hadn't talked in a long time. She'd helped me when I went to L.A. to try to help Ellie a few years back and after then we talked occasionally. But the occasions had become more and more infrequent the last couple of years…as in maybe once. It wasn't that I had avoided her; there was just too much there, too many things that had been left unsaid….should've been said back in Jersey. And one thing that I learned in L.A. was that there was still something there, a pull, but we'd never really be able to connect. Too much water under the bridge, I guess.

I sensed that she was feeling some of the same stuff I was; the sound of our voices setting off memories…and alarms. So why was she calling? And then it hit me, like a baseball bat to the gut…it hit me. "Ellie? You're calling because of Ellie…"

"Jimmy," she said softly in that bad news is coming cop kind of way. Having used it myself so many times, I knew what was coming next. I let out a breath and then sucked in another, waiting for the boom to lower…or the cloud to burst. "She's hurt, Jimmy…in the hospital…it's bad."

Quickly, I jotted down the information, the hospital and her doctor's name. "I'll call you when I get there," I promised her. "Yeah. Just…hurry," she implored before we hung up.

There was a flight leaving McCarran in two hours. I could fly faster than I could drive and from Annie's tone, I knew time was important. Ecklie was out so I left him a message. If my departure wasn't okay…well, to hell with it. I knew he'd be calling later, irate. But it didn't matter. My baby was hurt and I had to go.

It didn't matter that Ellie and I hadn't spoken in forever. It didn't matter that I was the last person on Earth that she'd probably want to see. That the last time we did speak, I called her a piece of plumbing was not going to be a barrier, at least not for me. It didn't even matter that biologically speaking, she wasn't even mine. All that mattered was my baby was hurt and I am her dad.

I did call Annie when I got to L.A. The dufus at the car rental desk took forever to locate a car for me, so I dialed Annie's number while I waited. She said she'd meet me at the hospital. I found her outside when I got there. We started inside.

"What happened?" I asked her, dreading the details.

"We're still checking, Jim. But it looks like a hit and run." The door to the elevator we were riding opened and I saw a sign for Recovery. Annie continued talking as we walked. "A couple of witnesses say she was just crossing the street when a car came around the corner."

That surprised me. I was expecting to hear one of her johns had beat her up…or maybe it was something like what happened to her friend Dakota a few years back. Or maybe a drug deal gone bad… But a hit and run?

My surprise must have registered in my face because Annie looked at me oddly. I thought I knew all of Annie's expressions and she mine, but we were both at a loss for a moment. Then the door to the recovery room opened and a nurse walked out, bringing my attention back to my kid. "So how bad?" I asked Annie.

"Bad. The doctor wouldn't give me many details but he wants to talk to you. I told him you were on your way. She was in surgery when I called you."

Surgery for what?" I asked impatiently.

"I'm not sure…like I said the doctor wouldn't tell me much except that she might not make it even through the surgery." Sighing I nodded, understanding that Annie really was telling me all she knew. Then something flashed across her face… a question she didn't want to ask. I shrugged and gave her a look, one that told her to go ahead and ask. "You called her mother yet, Jimmy?" she asked nervously.

Something bottomed out in my stomach and suddenly I felt sick. This was a call I really didn't want to make; not just because of the subject but because who I'd have to talk to. Nancy and I hadn't exchanged a civil word since Ellie's high school graduation and before that it had been barely civil after I left her and Jersey behind some twenty years ago. We'd managed to be reasonable while Ellie was still a kid, for her sake but all that fell away the day after Ellie graduated. Besides, the way my luck had been running lately, it'd be the sperm donor that answered.

"No I haven't," I told Annie, my tone harsher than I intended. "I um… thought it would be good to have something concrete to tell her."

"She needs to know Jimmy. It is her kid too."

I closed my eyes to collect my emotions. Last thing I wanted was Nancy running around acting the martyr or accusing me of God only knows what. But Annie was right, Nancy needed to know. This really wasn't about me or what I needed, Ellie would want her mother. Maybe God would be kind and the sperm donor wouldn't be around. "I'll um…peek in on Ellie and then I'll make the call," I assured Annie.

Annie nodded. "I'll wait by the elevators," she told me gently. "Take your time."

Taking a deep breath, I turned and stepped into the room. What I saw nearly killed me right there. My baby girl was lying there, all hooked up to tubes and machines, and wearing gauze like a second skin. Her face was so battered and scrapped that I could barely recognize her. A clump of hair peeked out between some of the bandages and I realized she'd let her hair go back to its natural brown color. Her eyes were closed and a part of me was thankful. It didn't take a genius to know she'd be in pain if she were awake.

I felt so helpless, standing there and staring at my daughter. Memories flooded over me of a sweet little girl, the apple of her Daddy's eye until the world fell apart for both of us.

I should have done better, I told myself. It was a years long mantra inside my head, every time I thought of Ellie. Then darker memories rolled through me, an angry teenager who told me in no uncertain terms what she thought of me, the young woman who spit at me…on my badge in the middle of the hall at PD. The girl who's eyes watered when she saw my tears outside The Bellagio and she told me it was too late. And of course, there was that painful scene at LAPD when I said she was just a piece of plumbing. That was the last time we actually spoke.

As I watched her breathe, I remembered when it was me in the hospital bed, fighting for life. Most of that time is a blur but I can remember her face as she stood behind Grissom. I saw the fear. I tried to reach for her, to tell her I was glad she was there… to tell her I love her. And then she disappeared. That hurt.

And as I watched her, it was me feeling the fear. All I wanted to do is hold her and tell her it would be okay, like I did when she was five and fell off the slide at the park. But my ability to fix what was bothering her was long gone. And for sure, I couldn't fix this. My baby was fighting for her life and all I could do was watch. Let me tell you, it's the worst feeling a father can have.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned to se a middle aged man walking towards us. "Mr. Brass," the man asked.

"Yeah, I'm Jim Brass," I answered, speculating.

"I'm Dr. Henderson. Ellie is my patient."

"Oh…good….I was going to look for you," I replied. "How is she? What's wrong with her? She's going to be alright, isn't she?" I was firing questions too rapidly, my fear and nervousness overtaking my mouth.

Dr. Henderson glanced over my shoulder at Ellie and then gave me a weak smile. Let's go to my office. Ellie will be coming out of the anesthesia soon and I don't want to disturb her. So I followed him down the hall, passing Annie as we went. She caught on and held her hand to her ear, signaling me to call her later. I nodded and continued following the doctor.

Once in his office, he pointed for me to sit. Across from his desk, he had a sofa and club chair. I took the chair. He settled on the sofa and looked at me solemnly. "I don't know how much you know about your daughter's life here…" he began. My insides began to churn and I put my hand up to slow him down, expecting a rehash of her past... mistakes. "I've got a pretty good idea," I told him.

Dr. Henderson nodded, accepting that I wouldn't be shocked by anything he might say. But we were both was wrong. "Then you know she's been working here with our drug intervention program?"

I sat, stunned. "You mean, she was in your drug intervention program, don't you?" I asked.

"Well yes, she was," he agreed tentatively. "But for the last year, she's been working here. You didn't know?"

"Doctor, I haven't spoken to my daughter in several years. Her mother and I divorced a long time ago and Ellie blamed me for …a lot of things," I told him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I haven't worked directly with her and have only seen her in the halls. Our paths haven't really crossed much, except for now of course." He sighed heavily. "But as for her condition now… "

"She's going to make it?" I knew how pathetically hopeful I sounded but after all, this was my kid we were talking about.

"Her chances are good." His tone was measured, but it was his body language that really told the story. He wasn't comfortable at all. Ellie's chances might be good but not too good. It could go either way. "She had extensive internal injuries. The surgery was to stop the bleeding. She'll need more…later. But she lost a lot of blood. Right now, we just want to get her stable and give her a chance to… get a little stronger."

"More surgery? What else…" Dread was filling my veins as the feeling of doom hovered over.

"There was some kidney damage; one might have to be removed. Some ribs were broken which punctured her lung …and there is damage to her pelvis. For now, we will try to keep her immobile. Perhaps in a day or two she will be strong enough for the pelvic surgery. And by then, we'll know more about the kidney; we might get lucky…"

It was tough, absorbing the information. A mix of tears and bile rushed through me and I had to choke back both. "Is ….is that all? Is there anything else?"

"Her arm was broken but right now that is the least of her worries. And she suffered a concussion. But again, it is not severe and those symptoms should pass on their own."

I sat dumbly, nodding. It was too much…there was so much that could go wrong. Even if she survived long enough for the other surgeries, there was still so much… "I…I um…." I tried to speak but the tears were beginning to overflow. "I need to call her mother. She's in New Jersey…" I managed through it all.

"That's a good idea. She should probably fly out…just in case," he added.

I sat in the rental and cried for a few minutes. And then I pulled out my cell and began to dial a number I hadn't called in years. Blinking back another deluge, I listened to the phone ringing. And then I heard an answer. "Nancy," I managed to say clearly. "It's …it's Jim. Ellie's been hurt. She…she needs you…you need to come…to L.A."

I was standing in the hall the next day when Ellie's mother arrived. Thankfully, she left the sperm donor behind. I watched as she left the elevators, stopped at the nurse's desk for a moment, and then headed straight for me. I must've looked like a wild dog with its hackles raised; I know I stood a little straighter, a lot straighter actually, ramrod straight, preparing myself for the onslaught of accusations and accompanying venom.

It never came. She stopped in front to f me. "How is she?" Nancy asked anxiously.

"About the same," I answered. "She was out of it most of the night. The doctor promised to come by to talk to you after you got here, so he can fill you in on the latest details. But bottom line is… she's in for a fight."

I watched her take it in. To say she was upset would be an understatement. But I have to give her credit, she had it together…a lot better than she would have done twenty years ago. "You want a coffee or anything?" I asked, trying to …be considerate.

She blinked as she looked up at me. "Thanks, but no. Um…can I see her? Is there anything against that?"

I stepped aside with a shrug. "No, no reason you shouldn't. Maybe it'll do her good."

She looked at me oddly before she stepped into the room, our baby's room. Recognizing that she needed time with Ellie, time without me there, I stood in the hallway feeling torn and probably looking like a guard at his post. But I didn't care; not about appearances, not about anything except doing what was right for Ellie. And right now that meant making nice with her mother.

Nancy emerged a few minutes later, tears in her eyes and looking shaken. She looked up at me with something I hadn't seen from her in years, compassion. "How'd you find out?" she asked.

I debated about what to tell her but quickly decided the truth was best…well, my version of it anyway. "A few years ago Ellie got into some trouble. The cop that helped me get it sorted out has been keeping tabs on her for me."

Nancy sighed heavily. "Annie Kramer?" she asked dangerously.

Who was I kidding; she knew. "Yeah," I answered simply.

I watched as she contemplated a response but finally gave in. "I'm glad somebody was looking out for her," she finally said softly.

I wanted to say something, anything that might lighten things up a bit, make us both feel better but I couldn't come up with anything. Then I remembered she probably hadn't eaten since leaving Jersey. "You want anything? The cafeteria is pretty decent downstairs. Why don't you let me buy you breakfast?"

Again, there was that look, compassion and… appreciation maybe? She was about to respond when Dr. Henderson walked up to us. Nodding at me, he then acknowledged Nancy. "You must be Ellie's mother?"

All she could manage was a nod. He began to explain Ellie's injuries again when a nurse ran out from behind her desk, straight at us. "Dr. Henderson, she's coding," she panted as she rushed into the room, Henderson on her heels.

Nancy turned to follow them but I reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "We need to stay here," I told her. "We'll be in the way."

Her head whipped around and she glared at me angrily for a moment. But then reason took hold and she meekly nodded, unconsciously settling back into me for comfort. My own need for some comfort took over and instinctively, I gathered her into my arms, whispering softly that Ellie would be okay; she had to be, right?

We stayed right there, frozen in place as we watched the activity in Ellie's room through the open door. I'd seen it too many times not to recognize death as it loomed over our baby girl. I recognized the slump in the doctor's stance too. My baby was gone. Nancy didn't realize it at first; I think it was the change in my own body language that tipped her off. She turned to me, a look of absolute horror and agony on her face, her eyes questioning me. Before I could speak though, Dr. Henderson walked out to us.

"I'm very sorry," he said. And he meant it. But it didn't help.

"Why? What happened?" I wanted to know. Nancy looked up, her tear filled eyes turning to him as well.

"Her heart…my guess is a pulmonary embolism." He sighed heavily. "Sometimes it happens after surgery, especially one as extensive as hers was."

"But you said… I don't understand… you got the bleeding stopped…" I was having trouble bringing my thoughts into focus.

"We did. But there must have been a blood clot; it worked its way to her lungs and then…"

"But she's too young," Nancy pleaded.

I looked down at her, saw the anguish, a reflection of my own. She needed answers and so did I. "Those things take time, don't they?" I asked as I looked back at him.

"Not always. I can't be certain without an autopsy but I believe that's what happened."

I heard autopsy and went rigid. Nancy stiffened as well. "Autopsy?" I cried. Mental pictures from Doc Robbins' morgue flashed through my mind and chilled me instantly. It was then that I lost it…started crying like a baby. All the pent up emotions, the hurt, disappointment, guilt, fear….everything came spilling out. And the greatest irony of my lifetime was that it was Nancy who tried to comfort me.

Sometime later that night I got her a room at the hotel where I was staying. It didn't matter though because we both ended up in my room, neither wanting to be alone. We found solace in one another, sharing in the grief that only parents can share.

So now we're standing here, a preacher saying words over our baby's coffin, the cemetery guys standing discreetly off the side waiting to lower her into the ground. And we're holding hands, finding strength in that simple gesture. Yeah, life is full of ironies.


End file.
